


We'd Meet Again

by lsaacLahey



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, a lot of this is really inaccurate because i did it for a novel study, but you can take jean's feelings how ever you'd like, i changed around a few things, it's also more of a friendship thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:32:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1710092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lsaacLahey/pseuds/lsaacLahey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leader huh? Marco believed in Jean more then he believed in himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'd Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a school project, a lot of stuff probably isn't accurate for that reason sorry.

His boots are muddy, his hair a wet mess ontop of his head blonde strands stick to his forehead like paint to a canvas as his horse kicks up splotches of liquefied dirt, the air around him is nothing but a heavy mist of rain and fog blocking view of the soldiers and horses in front of himself. In this condition the plan will fail. No, this isn’t good.

It began raining lightly, the commander had just dismissed it, the risk of it storming this time of the year was highly unlikely, it was safe, or so it seemed. Jean remembers the week before, it was boiling hot, the sky clear, his harness stuck to his skin like soggy paper, the burn from constant rubbing of the leather left marks on him that are still visible. Connie had suggested that they ate outside, and everyone gladly agreed. The air was warm, with a slight breeze that was a relief from the busy hustle of the scouting legion getting things ready for the expedition. Eren made a really bad joke that only Sasha had laughed at, Christa wiped the crumbs off Ymir’s face with a cloth that matched her crystal blue eyes, Armin sat next to Jean and offered him half of his sandwich. How could the events take such a dark turn?

He remembers Corporal Levi, Commander Erwin and Squad leader Hanji in front of the group in a room similar to the overcrowded confined space that he learned the science behind the titans, how to kill them, how to put on the harness and the mechanics of maneuver gear, about three years ago, if he remembers correctly. long wooden tables with an impressive amount of curse words carved into the oak, chairs that squeaked when you leaned to far back, black bored with a diagram written in pale yellow chalk. The sight brought a wave of nostalgia; a slap in the face threatening to reopen a still healing wound on his venerable cheek. What would it be like if Hannah, Franz, Daz, Mina, Thomas, Samuel and Marco made it through the battle of Trost?

Erwin spoke about how they were able to predict the exact days that would be in their favor to make the trip to Shanganshina district, no rain, no storms, clear skies. The formation they were taking was a miniature version of the one that took place when they had captured Annie, or the female titan, in other words. It was only Levi, Erwin, Hanji and what was left of 104th that was going, taking too many soldiers would only end in disaster. At least he thought that was the reason, he couldn’t pay attention because Sasha kept whispering comments about how big Commander Erwin’s eyebrows were to the entire back row, earning quite a bit of suppressed laugher and a raised eyebrow from the corporal.

Didn’t they know how serious this was? It was humanities last hope, well, next to Eren, but even the titan shifter didn’t have full control over his power. Or it could be humanities biggest mistake. What if the basement Eren had spoken about was only nothing but a drugged up vision? Eren’s father had injected something in him, if Jean had remembered the story properly. What if the basement is nothing but old family photos, hand me down clothes and rubble? They’re betting their lives on Eren’s words. Jean shot them a glare and rested his head onto the cool wooden surface.

He hears Commander Erwin’s calls to start heading toward the left. The call goes unheard to the soldiers behind him, they take a right, He gets a glimpse of a bright red scarf and signature nest of brown bed head. Jean calls out to them. It’s hopeless as they disappear behind a wall of fog. For a second selfishness takes over, why should he risk his life for Eren? They hated each other, far from friends, he meant nothing to Jean. Why go after Mikasa? Sure she was his dream girl, the girl he spent most of his childhood sketching and wishing he knew just who she was, why he was so memorized and how her sharp features and soft hair, how she was imprinted in his brain up to every detail (the shock of actually finding the girl still hasn’t totally set in.) But she didn’t ever take a second glance at him unless he was insulting her hot headed brother. Stupid Eren. If he went against orders he’d end up as Titan chow. He’d get his limbs pulled off one by one, only to end up in a big ball of vomit or burned ashes.

_Ashes. Leader. Marco._

_“Don’t hate me when I say this but you’re not a strong person, Jean, you relate to the people, that’s what makes you a good leader.”_

Leader huh? Marco believed him more than he had ever believed in himself. The last time Jean had seen Marco before he died was when the freckled boy was saving his life when the maneuver gear malfunctioned, Marco was his savior, it happened so quick, the sound of maneuver gear above him and the low sound of his best friends voice shouting his name, Marco was so strong, brave, selfless, something Jean admired, he took a risk, a deadly one at that. Yet no one knows who he ended up a bloodied mess on the side of the road, flies buzzing around him as the nibbled at the decay. But then again, You never know what could happen, you have to expect the unexpected in times like these.

the shock that went through him, the words that spilled out of his mouth as he identified Marco’s lifeless body, _“Marco Bodt, 104 th trainees, **leader** of the 19 th trainee squad.” _

Marco Bodt, only fifteen years old, died during the battle of Trost, where humanities first victory against the titans was achieved. He was so young, so generous, so selfless, a dream of serving the king was now left empty.

Jean remembers holding the ashes that could of once belonged to his best friend. It was cold, so cold despite the fire being merely inches away from his face. He hadn’t meant to cry, he didn’t deserve to shed tears, he was so selfish, so god damn selfish. What was Marco’s last moments of life like? Was he in pain? Was it slow and painful? Was it quick and painless? Did he accept his cruel fate? Or did he die with regret in his heart? Jean didn’t want that. He didn’t want to end up in a pile of ashes, in his friends hands. He didn’t want to die a disappointing death, with someone burning his bones without knowing how he died.

_“Marco, I can’t tell what bones are even yours.”_

He was selfish, and he knew that now.

He remembered the speech Eren gave him. Something about how big of a coward Jean was for staying in the inner walls, how he only went through the training to earn an easy safe spot rather than fighting for humanity, his plan was only going to be a mistake in the end. Jean wasn’t going to listen to the brown haired boy, Eren was suicidal for wanting to join the scouting legion, it was a quick path straight up to death’s front door. Jean was going to join the military police, in the most inner wall where he would live a life of peace and serve the king, he worked hard for that life style. But how could he do that now? People were dying like Marco, how could he want such a selfish thing? He could prove to Marco that he is a good leader, live up to those words in Marco’s honor. He was joining the scouting legion.

It’s been months since then, this was his chance to prove to his freckled best friend that he was worth it, it was worth saving his life.

He doesn’t take a look back, doesn’t hesitate as he takes a turn left and heads for Mikasa and Eren. The rain is pouring hard now, its impossible to see more than three feet ahead of him. The air smells like frost and pine trees, he’s soaked head to toe and his hearts pounding against his rib cage.

_This is all your fault, eren._

Soon he hears the all to familiar sound of maneuver gear wires, followed by a low moan that could only belong to a titan. The hairs stick up on the back of his neck, an errabent or an abnormal? Whichever one it is, both can be dangerous, especially in the harsh downpour. He pulls his horse to a halt and wastes no time running over towards the sound of blades ripping into flesh.

“Mikasa?!” He calls out on the top of his lungs, he calls for the both of them until his lungs and throat burn, his chest rises in a harsh manner and it feels like someone is playing a drum solo in his ears. Why weren’t they calling back? His boots make a disgusting sloshing noise as he breaks into a run towards the sound of a terrifying scream.

He stops dead in his tracks. Mikasa is on her knees in a pool of blood, solid white pants stained with crimson, in one hand she has a blade pointing towards a titan, her murderous glare is in her distant eyes as she pulls her brother closer to her. The titan is defiantly an abnormal. It’s face has a horror movie worthy grin plastered on, teeth sharper than the cheap flimsy blade Mikasa has in her right hand. On her lap, Eren lays, breathing shallow, face pale. The once lively, bright eyed, hot headed solider he knew looked nothing more than a small child. A child missing an arm doused in his own blood, that is.

Eren can’t die.

Not because he’s Jean’s kind of sort of friend, or that they spent three years of each other’s life bickering constantly that maybe, just maybe, Jean has grown used to him.

Because he’s humanities last hope. And the commander gave orders to protect him at all costs. Everyone’s life is on the line for Eren’s, not just his own. He’s not Jean Kirschtien, He’s not Marco’s best friend, He’s not Eren’s enemy or Mikasa’s admirer.

He’s a soldier.

Everything is in slow motion as he aims his maneuver gear at a nearby tree, inches from the Titan’s face. The rain pours heavily down his face, causing his teeth to begin clacking together. A pool of nerves and anxiety cause a storm in the pit of his stomach as he makes eye contact with Mikasa.

Her grey orbs widen as she realizes what he’s about to do. She shakes her head and her face goes back to deadpan as she glares, her own way of saying, _I can do this on my own. I don’t need help. This is my job, this is what I’m living for. Don’t risk your life for me._

Everyone needs a purpose to live, some people are given theirs from the moment they are born, others search years to find the exact reason why they were implanted on this earth, why they were forced to live in the walls, to live without freedom, in fear. Mikasa’s had just happened to be protecting her adoptive brother, he saved her life once after all. But this was different, This was a situation where they would both lose, Mikasa would die a regretful death. Even Connie could probably tell that this wasn’t a situation to get jealous over and something needs to be done now. So with one deep breath he pulls the trigger on the blades and he’s flying towards the tree.

For humanity. _For Marco._

His feet land against the slippery bark and he desperately tries to gain his balance, “Hey!” He calls out to the titan. The fifteen meter tall beast turns to face the two tone haired boy. It’s eyes are glazed over, stare vicious, makes Jean’s blood run colder than the rain. Colder than the winter season nights at the trainee barracks when Reiner would tell stories about his childhood and Connie would fall asleep hanging off his bed. Colder than the day when he held Marco’s ashes.

Mikasa takes the distraction to her advantage, hoisting up Eren onto her shoulder and running for her life. Jean knew she would catch on, they weren’t friends in times like these, they weren’t the trainees telling jokes, they weren’t kids anymore. They had an order, and Jean had just sacrificed his life to fulfill it.

It happened quick, nothing like he thought it’d be like. He was pulled off the tree, panic, regret, dread, acceptance, all visable in his amber eyes. His stare danced on the pool of blood where Mikasa once sat as he thought only of Marco. At least she had a chance, she gets to live another day with someone who is important to her. The titan’s teeth sink into him, it’s probably the most painful thing he’s been through. He did die alone, yes, but someone knew what happened, someone will tell the others how Jean Kirschtien lost his life to save humanities last hope. His eyes slip close as he loses consciousness.

-        

The feeling is warm, and happy, welcoming, like blankets fresh out of the dryer, reminds him of home. Around him is blackness, anxiety and worries are gone. The titans, the walls, trost, the basement, they mean nothing now.

“Jean?”

He knows that voice. The voice he once had longed to hear again, to see that smile again.

“Marco?” Jean’s voice cracks, laced with disbelief. The freckled boy is standing in front of him, warm smile plastered on his face, hand extended for Jean to grab.

“Yes, It’s me.” Marco reassures as he takes Jean’s hand in his grip and tugs him to his feet.

“You’re back?” Jean desperately holds Marco’s wrist in a death hold. He wouldn’t let Marco leave this time, not again.

“You came to me. I knew we’d meet again.” Marco’s voice is soft and does nothing but reassure Jean as he lets go of the boney wrist.


End file.
